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Bornhald, you are with me. Trom, you and the other Lords Captain bring our men out in ranks onto the field.”
    A large cluster of men near the front of Asunawa’s force was riding forward, down the hillside. Many wore the crook of the Questioners. They could have sprung their ambush and killed Galad’s group quickly. Instead, they sent down a group to parley. That was a good sign.
    Galad mounted, suppressing a wince for his wounded leg. Byar and Bornhald mounted as well, and they followed him onto the field, hoofbeats muffled by the thick, yellowed grass. Asunawa himself was among the group approaching. He had thick, graying eyebrows and was so thin as to appear a doll made of sticks, with fabric stretched across them to imitate skin.
    Asunawa was not smiling. He rarely did.
    Galad pulled his horse up before the High Inquisitor. Asunawa was surrounded by a small guard of his Questioners, but was also accompanied by five Lords Captain, each of whom Galad had met with—or served under—during his short time in the Children.
    Asunawa leaned forward in his saddle, sunken eyes narrowing. “Your rebels form ranks. Tell them to stand down or my archers will loose.”
    “Surely you would not ignore the rules of formal engagement?” Galad said. “You would draw arrows upon men as they form ranks? Where is your honor?”
    “Darkfriends deserve no honor,” Asunawa snapped. “Nor do they deserve pity.”
    “You name us Darkfriends then?” Galad asked, turning his mount slightly. “All seven thousand Children who were under Valda’s command? Men your soldiers have served with, eaten with, known and fought beside? Men you yourself watched over not two months ago?”
    Asunawa hesitated. Naming seven thousand of the Children as Darkfriends would be ridiculous—it would mean that two out of three remaining Children had gone to the Shadow.
    “No,” Asunawa said. “Perhaps they are simply…misguided. Even a good man can stray down shadowed paths if his leaders are Darkfriends.”
    “I am no Darkfriend.” Galad met Asunawa’s eyes.
    “Submit to my questioning and prove it.”
    “The Lord Captain Commander submits himself to no one,” Galad said. “Under the Light, I order you to stand down.”
    Asunawa laughed. “Child, we hold a knife to your throat! This is your chance to surrender!”
    “Golever,” Galad said, looking at the Lord Captain at Asunawa’s left. Golever was a lanky, bearded man, as hard as they came—but he was also fair. “Tell me, do the Children of the Light surrender?”
    Golever shook his head. “We do not. The Light will prove us victorious.”
    “And if we face superior odds?” Galad asked.
    “We fight on.”
    “If we are tired and sore?”
    “The Light will protect us,” Golever said. “And if it is our time to die, then so be it. Let us take as many enemies with us as we may.”
    Galad turned back to Asunawa. “You see that I am in a predicament. To fight is to let you name us Darkfriends, but to surrender is to deny our oaths. By my honor as the Lord Captain Commander, I can accept neither option.”
    Asunawa’s expression darkened. “You are not the Lord Captain Commander. He is dead.”
    “By my hand,” Galad said, unsheathing his weapon, holding it forward so that the herons gleamed in the light. “And I hold his sword. Do you deny that you yourself watched me face Valda in fair combat, as prescribed by law?”
    “As by the law, perhaps,” Asunawa said. “But I would not call that fight fair. You drew on the powers of Shadow; I saw you standing in darkness despite the daylight, and I saw the Dragon’s Fang sprout on your forehead. Valda never had a chance.”
    “Harnesh,” Galad said, turning to the Lord Captain to the right of Asunawa. He was a short man, bald, missing one ear from fighting Dragonsworn. “Tell me. Is the Shadow stronger than the Light?”
    “Of course not,” the man said, spitting to the side.
    “If the Lord Captain Commander’s cause had been